


She Left Her Flowers

by tea_petty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Affairs, Beards (Relationships), Cunnilingus, F/F, Historical, Mutual Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27283480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Natalya has a not-so-secret admirer who she confronts at church one day.
Relationships: Belarus (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	She Left Her Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr; tea-pettiest

Even if her husband was as finely dressed as she was, Natalya Arlovskaya shone.

Or so, that’s what her secret admirer thought, her eyes always drawn to the other woman like a moth to flame. Fire was not a terribly inadequate representation of Natalya, she thought, even if the world seemed to only see the opposite. 

Despite the ice in her eyes and her fair hair that slipped like a silver waterfall, there was blistering heat inside of her. That was how she’d come to first notice Natalya; on a frosty morning at the market, when Natalya had gotten into a spat with a vendor and the other woman felt it from several shops down.

It was from there that she’d gotten inspired; Natalya became a sort of muse for which she’d live her life. She started going to the market every Saturday morning because that was her best chance at catching a glimpse of her. She ate well because she wanted to appear well if Natalya happened to get a glimpse of her back. She walked with her shoulders back and head high - something that took much practice in front of her mirror before she departed her home for the market. She snuck into her parent's room to swatch makeup from her mother's vanity, wanting to emphasize the color Natalya put in her cheeks and draw her careful eyes to her lips.

Soon enough, to live for herself was not enough, and the idea to reach out budded in her mind. 

Of course, Natalya must’ve known of her – everyone around here knew of each other. They went to the same church and walked the same smoggy streets. The real trick was to reach out in a way that was intentional enough to evoke a response from her.

Leaving gifts felt natural but silver and gold, while refracting the glimmer of her light, faded in comparison, not to mention it was all much too expensive for upkeep. Sketches could burn away and dissolve into ash. Books had the same issue. 

She needed something that not just tolerated the heat, but leaned into it. 

Watching her mother try and coax their flowers into longevity in their home, she got the idea. Flax cropped up everywhere, the periwinkle petals reminding her of Natalya’s eyes.

They weren’t much, but she could leave them often, and maybe, after all, her devotion was the real gift. 

She left her flowers.

At first, she’d pass her home, checking every direction for signs of the help before leaving small bunches of flowers at her front door, tied together with twine (she had thought ribbons at first, but soon realized she’d quickly run out of them.)

After a week or so of this, she started to grow braver – and a bit impatient. It was difficult to tell if the flowers were being noticed and picked up when the front step saw so much activity. She had zeroed in on a healthy window of time in which she was certain no one would call upon Natalya; she started leaving it tucked into the looped handle of the front door.

When still, she could not see if Natalya was receiving her gifts, she started walking the street, pretending to be so scatter-brained, she had started to gain a reputation for having lost every single one of her marbles. 

She didn’t care; she just wanted to know Natalya had received the flowers she’d left her.

One afternoon, she spotted Natalya returning home from an outing, her husband on her arm. She noticed the flowers and picked them up in her pale, sinewy fingers. Her husband looked to say something and then Natalya was dropping them to the ground. Her husband stepped on them, and the other woman wasn’t sure what was more vexing; the idea that he’d noticed or the idea that he hadn’t.

Still, she wasn’t one to be set aside. 

She started coming in the night instead and leaving them at her windowsill, which she’d devised was to the right of the house where it overlooked the surrounding area and main street. The one-story climb was easy enough with the trellis forming natural foot and handholds for her to climb. 

On the second night of doing this, she realized the flowers from the nights prior were disappearing. 

By the end of the week, a candle had been left burning on the vanity inside, giving her a dim look at the vase inside and the blue flowers nestled within.

One Sunday, she was in her normal seat at church; middle of the third row – close enough to look interested, but mixed well enough among the people to get by with daydreaming or sketching if she so chose. 

The seating arrangement wasn’t chiseled in stone, and yet, people seemed to gravitate to their same weekly spots anyhow. This is why she was most surprised when Natalya filled the space beside her – _sans_ husband.

She looked up. Natalya looked straight ahead.

The worship hall was buzzing with idle chatter. 

The service hadn’t started but still, she felt as if she had no time to find the whereabouts of why Natalya had come to her. Was it about the flowers?

It had to have been, but _what_ about them? She could hardly believe that Natalya would’ve risked picking her out publicly just to say ‘thank you’ and if she were here to say anything else, she could hardly think it anything as kind as an expression of gratitude.

When the clergyman at the front of the room had just started to ascend the stage, Natalya suddenly rose to her feet, attracting the stares of several in their vicinity, and hurried out. 

She was stricken; Natalya hadn’t said a word to her, hadn’t spared her a single glance, or whispered a breath her way before taking her hasty exit.

What else could she do but follow?

The same smattering of eyes rose to follow her next, as she got to her feet and followed Natalya, struggling to catch up with the other woman. 

Her mind was reeling; what had Natalya come to her for and why had she left without it? She scarcely noticed the path they were taking – an odd, out of the church one that wrapped around as the worn pathway out back to where the quaint garden was. 

“Natalya!” she called. “Natalya, it’s evident by how you run from me that I’ve done something to upset you. Why you couldn’t just tell me there, I can only assume to be because you’re so distraught from my constant pursuits, that you couldn’t even bring yourself to look my way, or utter a word.”

She stopped as Natalya disappeared into the dusty, old potter’s shed. 

She remained outside; even with her pounding heart and windmill thoughts spinning one after the other, she felt it wrong to follow the lady into the secrecy of the dark.

“But Natalya, tell me now, at once. Declare to me that my intentions are misplaced and my ideas, mistaken. Say that you hate the flowers, that you hate me, and I’ll go away forever, I swear to you, I will. You’ll never hear from me again, I won’t-“

She lost her momentum with the same staggering spontaneity she’d found it with. At once, her words evaporated from her tongue and all she was left with was the buzz of insects and the rustling of grass. Somewhere distant, a bird screeched.

She was still staring at the abysmal shed, a bit lost, when Natalya emerged again, her lips turned into a sharp frown, her skirts churning with the angry movements of her legs. Natalya’s hand found the crook of her arm as she was dragged into the shed. 

She felt no pain, only exhilaration, sharp and potent, and dropping into something shivery and exciting between her legs.

“Huh?”

Natalya rounded on her.

“What the hell are you doing, marching around out there, parading your feelings like some lovesick schoolgirl? It’s _repugnant_.”

She had never seen Natalya this mad before. 

Or rather, she’d never seen Natalya anything other than far away and perfectly demure, as she held herself under the scrutiny of the public eye. 

Still, she grew worried – she thought Natalya might spit.

“I see.”

It had been a mistake, perhaps, to have followed her out here. 

She still had no idea what the pew business had been about, but that seemed small now in comparison to the obviously distressed woman in front of her.

She turned, ready to leave and go back to her seat in the church – the service would be starting soon.

She didn’t make it out the door before something warm grasped her hand and yanked her back.

It was clearly Natalya’s hand in hers, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. She waited and watched the woman, whose angry demeanor seemed to crack just the slightest, to let something else unplaceable in. The hardness of her face never let a bit.

This must’ve meant Natalya wanted her to stay.

She took a step towards the other woman, reaching out with the hand not locked in her grip. Immediately, she was met with a strong push back.

She couldn’t stay, she couldn’t go. She waited, her breath suspended at her lungs, precisely where she thought Natalya wanted her to stay.

The other woman’s icy eyes were on her, studying her face, then dropping to study other such things.

She was so mesmerized, watching Natalya, watch her, that her brain never processed as the woman moved closer to her, lips first in an odd, somewhat bent, posture.

Her eyes were half-lids, and she didn’t realize why until finally, Natalya’s mouth was on hers.

She stiffened at the soft feel of Natalya’s lips, the resistance of motion in her mouth contrasting to the fluid, ceaselessness of it at Natalya’s.

“I don’t-“ she gasped as Natalya’s tongue lavished at her bottom lip. “I don’t get it.”

Natalya angled her head, her hands catching at the other woman’s cheeks to keep her where she needed her. 

“Don’t worry,” she breathed. “I do.”

She let her hands come up to thread into the silvery-blonde strands of her hair, working with the pull of her hairstyle, careful not to disturb a single pin. The buttery rub of the other woman’s rouge weighed their kiss with an almost velvet quality that made her want to stitch them together to embroider kisses at her porcelain skin.

Both of them were wearing makeup, and so close to the house of God at that. The coincidence made her heart flutter, though no one would’ve been the wiser, the roses at their cheeks and kiss-bruised lips veiled by the blanket of face powder and slip of rouge. 

Her lips moved against Natalya’s, earnest in their want to make her feel good, to please her. Then Natalya’s hand left her cheek, trailing down and disappearing about the creases of her skirts. A moment later, a grip clamped down at the swell of her ass, squeezing in a way that left no doubt to the intent of it.

She let out a startled gasp.

She didn't dare let Natalya stop.

She fingered nervously at the front of Natalya’s dress as the woman tore her mouth from hers, veering downwards to the sensitive skin at her neck. 

At the feel of her soft lips, she moaned, her head dropping back as furtive pants filtered out.

She let out a breathy laugh, her fingers tightening their hold. 

Her stomach swooped; she had dreamed of this woman’s embrace since she’d first started leaving flowers. The real thing was so much better than what her imagination could’ve conjured up. 

“I was almost certainly convinced you wanted nothing to do with me,” she admitted. 

Ecstasy made her cocky; her heart was invincible on her sleeve.

She could feel her chest heaving, straining against the light fabric of her dress as the barrel of her torso struggled to take in enough air. Natalya broke away from her neck and buried her face into the other woman’s shoulder. She heard her take in a deep breath, and then Natalya was pulling away, a tendril of her ashy hair tickling the other woman’s cheek.

“Nothing could be more true.”

A pang went through both of their chests, first the woman Natalya was clutching, next, Natalya at watching the hurt that split at her face.

Natalya’s face had lost its sharpness; it struck the woman then, that she had never seen her distraught before.

“I’m tired,” she said, after a moment. “I’m tired of feeling…fragmented. Of living with half my heart out of my chest.”

Her voice sounded so ragged, the other woman could hardly believe it came from such prettily painted lips, like rubies in a dowry.

She blinked, her eyes stinging, and brought a hand up to stroke shyly at Natalya’s cheek.

“If I could make you whole, I would,” she whispered.

A wet trail streaked down one of Natalya’s cheeks and her brow furrowed. 

She was watching the woman in her arms with a dazed look like she couldn’t possibly fathom what that might be like.

Natalya surged forward then, her lips meeting hers in a fervent clash before breaking away. 

“You can though, can’t you?” Natalya’s mouth was on hers again, lips moving until she was ready to speak once more. “This – _you_ make me feel a little less like I’m missing something. I give you a tenth of me, and I feel like I’m getting all of me back.”

Now she was getting tired of not kissing Natalya. She let herself feel brave enough to pull the woman against her, kissing her against the torrent of Natalya’s words.

“So then, shall you make me whole?”

They were so close that they cast shadows on each other’s faces, their noses, their lashes, painting silhouettes where slats of light entered the old shed’s broken windows and bathed them.

“We’ll be careful,” she panted in between kisses. “We’ll watch our tracks.”

“Keep the home.”

Natalya looked at her, her lips upturned slightly, her lipstick smeared. 

The other woman realized she’d never seen her that way before either – happy or messy.

“Mm, we’ll keep the flowers inside,” Natalya said softly. “Where only we can appreciate their beauty.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as Natalya kissed her then, softly at first, barely enough to stifle the whimper that slipped out. Meanwhile, Natalya’s tongue pressed its way in, her teeth grazing the other woman’s bottom lip – not hard enough to sting, just enough to let her know that there was some gravity behind their tenderness.

She let herself go to the sensation of Natalya against her, her hands skimming up to brush lovingly at the hollow of her throat before they fell to the top of her dress. She tried to get her mind straight through Natalya’s kiss, her fingers stumbling over the first button but moving more easily over the second and third. 

Natalya’s lips slowed as she waited to see what the other woman might do. 

She could feel the light, gauzy fabric of her chemise beneath her frock. Her hands moved dexterously considering how she’d never done this before; her fingers hooked the neckline down and it moved easily, baring Natalya’s breasts to her.

Natalya’s breath caught and she relished the shudder of her in her arms. 

The other woman cupped her breasts, palming the warm plushness of her. Her chest rose and fell sharply with her breath, at times making her grasp tighter and at others, enticing her to give a squeeze. Natalya’s stiff nipples rasped against her palms and she couldn’t help herself – she gave one of them a teasing pinch before she cupped her breasts once again and dropped them. She broke the kiss only to look down and see the luscious little bounce of her body.

Natalya moaned and pulled her back in, kissing her harder now. Her breathing was still rough and her lips moved insistently. Natalya’s hands found hers and guided them back to her breasts, directing her on how to massage them. She wanted to pull back and watch; Natalya had such lovely breasts; small and perky like a dancer’s, the nipples pert and dark, like cherries. The other woman was suddenly fraught with the urge to suck on them.

She didn’t get the chance too though – before she could let her head drop down to Natalya’s soft cleavage, the woman’s hands were pushing her away with a force that had her staggering back.

For a moment she was hurt, was this it? Had Natalya regained her senses? Was she horrified at how their touch had forever marred them on the inside, burning new memories into their heads that they’d be resigned to carry until they died?

“Sit back,” Natalya said. “On one of the tables.”

Hurt was replaced with curiosity. She had no idea what else to do, so she obeyed and watched numbly as Natalya knelt in front of her, her skirts (of a much higher quality than her own) pooling around her like a puddle she could get drunk off of.

Natalya peered up at the woman above her, her breasts hanging out of her dress, still pert and pretty and waiting to be touched more. Heat was pooling between her legs, and now that she was seated, she could feel that she was wet through the slit of her undergarments. 

“Pull up your skirts,” Natalya directed, clear eyes cutting through the other woman’s clothes like knives.

Again, she obeyed and felt the slip of the fabric against the sensitive opening at her undergarments. At first, she pulled them up to about her knees, but then Natalya jerked her chin at her, and she knew to pull them higher. She hiked them up to about her waist and then Natalya shuffled forward, standing on her knees and wedging herself between the other woman’s legs.

She felt exposed now, her sex clearly visible as Natalya opened the fabric to plainly view her. Her fingers reached carefully, a little cold compared to the core of the other woman.

She stiffened initially as Natalya combed her curls, parting them away from her wet slit. The heat between her legs grew more fierce as if her body knew what was coming before she did.

Natalya’s mouth descended on the wet patch between her legs, her lips melding to the fabric of her undergarments as her tongue lavished the woman through the entrance cut into the fabric. At once, her head dropped back and she moaned, Natalya kissing her as slowly and luxuriously as she had her lips above.

Wetting her already wet cunt considerably more, making her slippery with the blend of saliva and her slick, Natalya sucked at her, taking some of the delicate skin of her folds between her lips and massaging them with her mouth. 

The heat between her legs seemed to coil at the applied pressure and Natalya felt the other woman’s thighs squeeze at the sides of her head. So _this_ was paradise.

Natalya ground the flat of her tongue against the woman’s clit, and immediately, her hips rose to jerk against her face. Natalya made note of that and let her tongue probe further, nestling into her folds, desperate to find more places that would make her lover come undone against her.

Finding a gentle divot against her mound, Natalya swiped her tongue over the woman’s entrance, teasing it gently with her tongue. The other woman let out a breathy moan and Natalya felt the shudder reverberate against her.

“P-please,” she whined. “I…I need more.”

Natalya was powerless to leave her wanting.

She returned to her clit, lavishing her tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves again, her lips parting to catch the additional wetness that seeped from the woman at her mouth. It was delectable. This time, Natalya moaned to show the other woman just how good she tasted, and when the sound vibrated up through her cunt she shifted to grind her sex against Natalya’s mouth unwittingly, desperate for friction.

She half-slipped from the old table, her skirts threatening to fall over Natalya’s head as she half-stood, half-slumped, and rode her face, unable to part her sex from Natalya’s lips for even a moment.

A fresh well of pleasure radiated through her from her pelvis up, scattering the hazy, feverish warmth through her limbs, priming it for the static of an eventual orgasm.

Natalya swallowed the extra saliva pooling in her mouth and brought some of her partner’s musky taste with it. 

It excited her in a way that made her want to find more of the woman; it wasn’t enough to just taste or touch her, she needed to be buried in her.

Natalya pulled back just enough that she had room to slip her hand from the other woman’s thigh to the wet seam of her cunt. She ran her fingers slowly along her wet folds, collecting her slick and spreading it though she was already dripping. 

She watched with glassy eyes as Natalya crooked her fingers in a ‘come hither’ way before she started to push into her sex.

“Natalya, wha-“

Her voice broke off into a moan as Natalya pumped her fingers, shallow and gently. The movements were small but their effect was electrifying. The other woman’s back arched into Natalya’s touch, the tips of her fingers brushing against someplace with the synergy of lock and key.

The heat in the woman’s stomach bubbled and leaped, swelling, building. The woman whimpered, her legs shaking, toes curling.

“ _Natalya_ -“

It felt like it was too soon; she certainly hadn’t felt as if she’d let go yet. She was holding on tightly, she could feel it in how she clenched her thighs tight around Natalya’s wrist, which appeared no more inhibited by the added pressure.

Stroke by agonizing stroke though, she felt her grip on her control slacken.

“Please, I can’t-“

“You can,” Natalya said quietly. “Go ahead, for me.”

She could feel heat itching at her face and with the next slip of Natalya’s fingers along the inside of her, there was a sudden release and then a small burst of wetness emptied out onto Natalya’s hand.

“ _Ah_!-“ Her face seared a flustered red. Her hand twitched before rising up to cover her face as much as she could.

She hadn’t known what happened exactly; she felt like she’d missed something.

Natalya kept her eyes trained on her lover and moved her thumb down to the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled at her sex. When the pad of her thumb brushed over it, the other woman bucked her hips. With her fingers still hilted inside her cunt, she could feel the clenching of her lover; something that seemed to grow more frequent as Natalya kept her ministrations going and focused on the clit.

“Lovely,” she said. “You look incredible when you come undone.”

Natalya angled her wrist upward to make room for her mouth above. It only intensified the angle at which her fingers entered the other woman. 

When Natalya’s tongue licked a stripe across her sex, the flat of it adding pressure to her clit, she could feel the tension in her thighs, the way the dimpled flesh tightened and twitched.

“Let go,” she said again. “Finish for me.”

The tension never left the other woman. She still seemed to cringe inwards on herself, as if either afraid of letting go of the shivery feelings Natalya had instilled in her or afraid of letting go in front of her.

Natalya brought her free hand up along the inside of the other woman’s thigh soothingly. Their eyes met and she leaned in to press a soft kiss against where her fingers had been. She hadn’t noticed, but a red print – her rouge – bloomed at her partner’s skin like a secret rose.

“Let go, I _have_ you.”

Natalya lapped at her, her tongue taking full swipes at her sex. The woman seemed to twitch with every stroke, her arousal pounding in a way that seemed almost visible. After a few moments of this, Natalya latched on, clasping her lips tenderly against the other woman’s wet folds and sucking. Through this, her tongue moved in a more focused manner against her clit. 

Her lover whined, her body pulling taught so that she seemed to shrink into herself.

Her grip in Natalya’s hair tightened, pulling a few blonde tendrils loose, and that was when she was certain she was finally coming. She welcomed the rush of wetness that emptied out into her mouth, moving her lips to kiss against the tide as a breathy moan reverberated through her lover.

Natalya nuzzled deeper into the woman’s sex, her lips and tongue meshing against the silky feel of her cunt, feeling the sensitive twitch of her and heave of her breath. She didn’t pull away until her lover’s hands found her again and desperately pushed away, a high whine riding at the back of her throat.

“ _Ah_!- Natalya, _please_ , it’s too-“

She pulled away and as Natalya rose to her feet, the other woman slumped back on the table, her arms trembling as she struggled to keep herself propped up. Natalya let herself sag against her lover, and when this set them both back onto the table with a creak and cloud of dust, both found themselves uncaring of this fact.

Natalya’s breasts were still out, and the other woman could feel the warm softness of them as Natalya curled her body over hers; equal parts protective and tired. Natalya’s arms wrapped around the other woman and her hands came up to reward her lover for her dutiful attention with gentle strokes. Natalya’s eyes fluttered shut as her lover’s thumbs brushed at her nipples.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured.

Natalya flushed.

“And _married_.”

The other woman had suffered much in wait of this moment, but this small detail seemed to press a barb into her heart. Rather than keel over, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and Natalya let her.

Natalya’s brow was pulled into a furrow. At once, the other woman was transported to just a short time before, where she was pining for Natalya from down the street, leaving flowers she thought were only smelled half the time.

“I think,” Natalya hesitated. “You will come to see that it isn’t…what you think it is.”

The other woman watched Natalya, her brow now cinched too, as she processed what her lover was saying. 

“He…knows?”

Natalya paused.

“Maybe a little. Our marriage was…for the sake of our work. Strictly business.”

The lines on the other woman’s face deepened as if permanently carved into her.

“I still don’t-“

Natalya’s hand reached up to stroke lightly across her lover’s cheek, trying to redeem the woman from how she turned to stone.

“Feliks and I are not in love. Nor are we married…in the way you might understand it to be.”

When this didn’t seem to work, she added:

“I don’t feel for him, what I feel for you.”

This didn’t change much of anything at all, she thought, a little worriedly. Natalya had felt these things for weeks and let her be a phantom bearing flowers at her trellis. Feelings meant nothing if they were smothered and stamped down by inaction.

She hesitated, wanting to ask for something concrete but afraid of taking it nevertheless.

“Can I…still leave you flowers?”

Natalya leaned in, her nose brushing the other woman’s. Her breath shuddered inside of her, and Natalya seemed to take this in as a treasure of her own.

“I’ll give you a garden to keep, all your own.”


End file.
